Save Yourself

Save Yourself, Chapter Twenty-Seven - Beautiful

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The three of us waited in the hospital wing for a good five minutes more, waves of pain washing over my body, squeezing my insides, as we waited for Professor Snape and Draco to show. I grew more and more angered with my husband as the minutes ticked by, and the notion he could very well miss the birth of his first child dawned on me after a particularly nasty and serious contraction.

Before I could reluctantly voice my complaints to the two women near me, the wooden doors burst open, causing me to jump slightly in surprise. Almost immediately afterward, Draco was standing next to me, his face flushed and his breath coming in massive gulps.

“Did we miss it?” he asked stupidly, taking my sweaty hand in his own.

“Of course not, you dolt,” I snapped, barely able to suppress the full extent of my rage. “Does it look like your spawn has seen the light of day yet?”

With my words, I gestured down toward the eight-month-old bulge of fetus that somehow seemed different—more alive, more real than ever before. With a small sound escaping from the back of his throat, Draco’s eyes widened and the gravity of the situation fell down upon him. He turned toward Madame Pomfrey, who was quickly moving toward me, flask in hand.

“She isn’t ready,” he insisted almost childishly. “She has another month to go, you know that…”

“I also know, Mr. Malfoy, that if your child doesn’t make an appearance in the next few minutes, there is a large possibility of you becoming a widower. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Both he and I paled at exactly the same time, and without a word I took the flask from the mediwitch’s outstretched hand, drinking it down in two large gulps. It tasted of ginger and kelp, a nasty combination that made me want to gag.

Sensing my husband’s anxiousness, Professor Snape, a presence I had previously not acknowledged, took a step forward and laid a hand upon his shoulder.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said quietly, in a voice that I was sure could make half the female population shiver with delight, “why don’t you and I have a discussion over there?” The man nodded over toward an area past the curtains hanging around my bed, where both he and Draco were sure to be out of the way.

Reluctantly, Draco dropped my hand and made his way to where the Professor was leading him. I watched him go, wishing the wizarding custom of having the father present but separated from the birth of a child had been abolished. My thoughts were quickly focused on the impending birth once more, however, as another wave of pain hitting me, this time much duller than the ones before.

“I need you to lift your legs up dear… yes, like that,” Madame Pomfrey said in a hush yet commanding tone as I positioned my legs in a way that was more than a little uncomfortable and revealing. “Minerva, I’m going to need your help here.”

The rest of my labor passed in a blur; the potion the nurse had given me not only dulled the pain, but my mind as well. I pushed when instructed, barely noticing the loud groans that escaped from my lips, which made Draco worry that something had gone wrong. He was much more nervous than I, and even though our child was to be born a month early, I was sure everything was going to be fine. He had no such reassurance, however, and with each passing moment I could sense his anxiousness rise a notch, until finally, after a hard and painful push, I felt the baby’s head slip through and into the world surrounding me.

“Good girl… one more big one, and it’ll all be over,” Madame Pomfrey said, her tone instantly transformed at the sight of my son.

I clenched my teeth and pushed as hard as I could, bright spots appearing in front of my vision as I finally felt the infant slip completely out of me. I let out a shuddering breath of relief, my body shaking and exhausted after what must have only been a few minutes at the very most.

“Minerva,” the nurse said, her tone suddenly much more urgent than I would have wanted it to be. “Take him—Severus, I need you here now.”

Her tone left nothing up for questioning, and immediately Professor Snape appeared between the two women, both of whom had identical looks of concentration and concern painted over their features.

“My baby—” I gasped, the sick weight of reality landing heavily upon my chest. “What’s wrong with him?”

Instead of answering me, Professor Snape immediately went to work, his long, pale fingers massaging my son’s chest, dipping into his tiny mouth. “His lungs are torn,” he finally said after a moment of prodding. “Poppy, you need to—”

“I know what I need to do,” the aging witch snapped, her wand instantly pointed toward my child’s tiny body. “Sano Plumara! ”

I held my breath for what seemed like eternity, praying to all the deities I could remember that my son live. My eyes were locked upon the tiny blue body, hands shaking and all the magic within me concentrated on making my son’s heart beat.

The only sound that registered in my mind was the first sounds of an infant crying; relief flooded my veins as I finally allowed myself to collapse, exhaustion overtaking my body as I struggled to remain conscious.

“Here,” I heard Professor Snape say quietly, and suddenly my son’s wailings were silenced. Summoning all the strength I could muster, I opened by eyes and saw what was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

Draco, still adorning his Quidditch gear, was awkwardly holding a bundle of blankets containing our son and his heir, a look of astonishment on his pale face. Slowly, as if he were afraid he was going to drop the infant, he made his way over toward me, placing himself on the edge of the bed I was laying in, bringing our son into my view.

“He’s beautiful,” I breathed, struggling to keep the bubbling of emotions I felt under control.

“What’s his name?” Professor McGonagall asked suddenly, bright eyes shining with tears.

“Zachary,” my husband replied, his own gray eyes rimmed with red. “Zachary Lucius Parkinson Malfoy.”

I looked up at Draco, shocked as his choice of name. The loss I had suffered only months before was still fresh in my mind, and not only had Draco managed to continue on my family’s name, he had also chosen to name his first-born and heir after my brother. Never, not once, had my brother’s name occurred to me during the long hours we had spent discussing the matter, yet now, as I gazed down toward my son, I realized what a perfect choice it was.

From that moment on, I knew the three of us were going to make it. We had been through so much and had made it, and I knew no matter how awful things got, all I had to do was step back and remember that instant in time when we first became a family.

I had no doubt that in the end, we would survive.